


Painter's Hands

by Peter164



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prostitution, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peter164/pseuds/Peter164
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky might live in a homosexual neighborhood with Steve. But that's because it's cheap. They might share a bed every night. But that's because Steve gets cold. He might have to stop himself from telling pretty dames about Steve for hours on end. But that's because Steve's a great person. He might fall in love with his hands all over again ever time he sees them. He has yet to come up with an excuse for that. </p><p>When Steve comes home with his beautiful hands dirty with grime and blood, the dam breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painter's Hands

Bucky would always glance at the alleyways. It was a habit at this point. At least it was one that paid off. As he checked the space between the General Store and Old Josie's Salon he saw little Steve throwing all 95 pounds at a much stronger guy at least half a foot taller. Bucky yelled, and as usual, swung him around. He brought a fist down on his jaw hard enough to knock him to the ground. The bigger man scrambled away while Bucky walked over to his friend. 

Steve's knees shook as he coughed, gulping down air whenever he could. He winced with pain when he tried standing straight up. Bucky knew there wasn't anything he could do until Steve managed to calm down. He just picked him up and carried him on his back. The wheezing mess behind him buried his head in his back and tightened his grip on his shoulders. Not for the first time, Bucky was thankful for where they lived. 

Luckily, they didn't pass many people until they started seeing prostitutes offering themselves up on street corners. Some wore sailor suits, their hair neatly parted to the side. They did happen upon a pair or two positioned in the few areas the bright sun didn't reach. One on his knees swallowing up the other. Neither of them reacted. This was a common occurrence for them both. Perfectly unavoidable at best. On a daily basis they would be surrounded by the sounds of dirty moaning echoing of the buildings. Whenever they passed one of the many men lined up on the road, they would get requests full of innuendo. 

Steve had stopped coughing by the time the reached the bars. Instead he took shaky, shallow breaths. Bucky hated the constant sound that came from the bars surrounding their little home. The loud groans and whines that always emanated from inside. The odor of sweat and alcohol penetrated your nose and made Bucky need to cough. He didn't understand why they didn't block out the windows. On occasion he could see two men pounding into each other like rabbits. 

Their apartment, it seemed, was in the heart of the mess. The point were the men so desperate for money was thickest and the awful cloud of stench was so strong it must be permanently etched into the wood and brick. But Bucky still brought his friend home. He had to set him down in order to dig his keys out of his pocket. Steve whined and wrapped his thin arms around Bucky's waist. _He only needs me to stay standing_. He thought to himself. 

He unlocked the door and picked Steve up again. He set him down on the couch to examine the damage done. He started from the top. He held his face gently in both hands _to feel for anything unusual_ he told himself. He was kneeling on the ground in front of him and took care to notice every detail of his face. His lip was split, the blood dry. Beyond that, nothing seemed to be wrong. Steve held Bucky's wrist as it rested on his cheek. 

Bucky ran his hands down his neck and chest. He checked for any broken ribs. He carefully judged Steve's facial expression to know exactly what hurt where. He saw him try and hide a wince when his hands reached his stomach. 

"Hurts?" He asked. Steve nodded a little, "Can I take your shirt off and see?" 

"Yeah, that's fine." He allowed Bucky to work on the buttons of his shirt. If he tried he would get snapped at, so he just let his friend do what he needed to do. The skin left of his bellybutton was colored purple and blue. Bucky trailed his fingers down the bruise, making Steve shiver. 

"What's wrong?" He immediately snapped his head up. 

"Nothing. Just a little cold is all." He excused his actions. Bucky knew he was lying, but he let it go. He ran his hands down his legs. Making sure nothing was too hurt. His knees were scraped up pretty badly, judging from the ripped up, red stained cloth. Other than that he seemed okay. He retraced back up to the shoulders. Rubbing his bare arms gently and down his wrists. He resisted the urge to leave kisses down the soft, pale skin. Because he's my baby and he's hurt. Not because I love him more than anything in the world. 

Before looking at his hands, he sat back up next to Steve and turned him slightly. He ran his fingertips down his back, searching for any odd lump under his skin. He reached around his sides and grabbed his precious hands. Bucky rested his chin on his shoulder and brought his beautiful hands up in front of them both. The silence was broken by a thump on the door. Moans seeped in through the thin walls. Bucky tried to guess what they were doing. A probably picked up B and slammed him against the door. They were most definitely having a grand time, skin on skin. 

When the two had passed on, likely to an apartment where they could make each other moan and groan even more if possible, Bucky brought his attention back to the precious hands he loved so much. The hands that would paint and draw and spin straw into gold. He had fairytale hands. Like the kind that princes would hold when they asked to marry the princess. His hands made Bucky swoon. 

Only now they were battered and bloodied. Covered with mud and dirt and whatever else Steve had hit. His knuckles were just beginning to let the blood dry. He rubbed the side of those perfect hands with his thumb. 

He kissed his neck lovingly, letting his mouth trail down his back. He turned Steve's head to kiss him on the mouth. His tongue snaked between parted lips. Weight shifted as he turned around to face Bucky, who pinned him to the couch and pressed open-mouthed kisses down his ribs and stomach. Steve let out glorious moans, not unlike those heard outside their safe haven, but so deliciously better. He started grinding into him, faster and faster until-

"Bucky." Steve's voice snapped him out of the daydream. He swallowed hard as he still sat, chest to naked back, behind Steve Rogers. No kisses shared. He simply sat rubbing his hands. He hummed. 

"You were getting lost again." Steve turned his head and smiled. Bucky let go of his hands and, instead, held his tiny waist. 

"Why do you always hurt your hands?" He asked. He wasn't quite ready to move to the bedroom, where all the medical supplies were. 

"I don't do it on purpose." He relaxed into Bucky's grip. 

"But you gotta stop makin' 'em so dirty." He said, "There so pretty. If you hurt them, then you'll lose all the pretty pictures you could paint with 'em." 

"I know you love them." Steve smiled, "They don't actually hurt that bad. I'm fine."

Bucky grabbed onto one of his hands and traced over one of the many scrapes with his thumb. Steve winced with pain. 

"Liar." He whispered his his ear, making them both giggle. They locked eyes with each other and paused. 

"You're eyes are blue." Steve pointed out. Their faces were close enough that they could feel each other's breath on their lips. 

"So're your's." Bucky half smiled. They spoke only in whispers. It seemed that the whole world stood still for a while. Silence enveloped them like a warm blanket. Steve reached up to run his damaged fingers through Bucky's dark hair. In turn, he buried his nose in his neck. 

"Buck." He broke the silence, "I love you."

"I love you too." He muttered into his skin. He meant the words with every fiber of his being. He adored Steve. His blond hair that shone in the sunshine and blue eyes that made the sky look gray without a cloud to be seen. He had fallen for him, weather he was willing to admit it or not.

Steve continued to comb through the black curls of hair on top of Bucky's head. He twisted himself around and gently tilted his head up. He pressed their foreheads together. Bucky giggled and ran his hands along Steve's chest. Their faces got closer, they lost themselves in touch. Their noses bumped and Bucky jerked away. 

"I should go get the first aid kit." He said awkwardly. He stood up and held his hand out for Steve to clutch to as he stood. Instead he held his arms out like a toddler, begging to be picked up. Bucky gave in and lifted him off the couch as if he was his glowing new bride. 

Steve nuzzled his nose in his neck. Bucky smiled at the gesture and placed him carefully on the bed. He pulled out the box of medicine and set it down next to him. He knelt again on the floor and carefully squeezed ointment on his finger. He rubbed it into the cut on his perfect, pink lips. He continued to clean and cover his few injuries, bandaging his knees up until he reached those delicate hands. 

"So, you a homosexual?" Bucky asked, trying to sound casual. He had brought a warm, wet cloth in earlier to clean some small cuts he had. He pressed it to his knuckles. 

"Bisexual." He corrected. His friend kept cleaning off the blood from his hands. The grime and dirt slipped away to reveal the smooth, pale skin underneath. 

"Oh." He swallowed, "Ever done anything with a guy before?" 

"You're joking." Steve smiled down at him. Bucky shook his head, "Didn't you ever wonder where I went every night when you got fired from your last job?"

"I wondered, but I didn't ask. You always showed up in the morning, and you were never hurt save for a bruise or two." He cradled his fingers gently as he washed them. 

"I was trying to get us some money." Steve answered, "We didn't have a lot of options so I-" 

"You didn't." Bucky couldn't believe what he was hearing. Just imagine it. Delicate, precious Steve Rogers out there surrounded by all that disgusting slime every night. 

"It was either blow a guy or starve. It didn't take long to figure out the better option." He brought his knees to his chest, "I finally managed to feed us though. If only for a little while."

"I'm sorry." Bucky pulled him into a hug, still on the floor, "I should've worked harder and found another job faster. You shouldn't be forced to do that."

"It's okay." Steve couldn't hug him back very easily. He ran his hands down his back and through his hair, "It was my choice."

"I know." He gripped tighter before letting go and moving back to hands, "I love you so goddam much, Stevie."

"I love you too." He smiled down. Bucky pressed his lips quickly to the wounded knuckles in front of him. He wanted to make them feel good, so he could paint. He knew how much he loved to paint. He left kisses on every wound he saw on his pretty little hands. He looked into sky blue eyes before pulling him down to reach his lips. 

He had to check to see if this was a dream. But it felt too real. Every nerve on fire as their lips danced together. He refused to break it, even when he stood and crawled over Steve. He very gently pushed him down on the bed as he kissed him. He felt Steve's hands pull him down by his hair. They only stopped when Steve bucked up into Bucky, making him gasp. 

"Someone's getting excited." He bit his lip as he whispered to him. Steve giggled and pecked his lips again. Bucky sat up to take his shirt off. He climbed off the other for only a moment so that he could pull himself up into the middle of the bed. Soon they were attacking each other's mouth again. 

"You're so fucking beautiful." Bucky said into the kiss. Steve bucked his hips up again, "God I hope the police don't come in for inspection right now."

Thankful for the fact the police didn't show up for a random inspection, Bucky and Steve savored each moment of their night. Collapsing together, messy and hot, under the sheets. Steve found himself being pulled towards Bucky's bare chest with an arm snaking around his waist. He left kisses down his back and smiled lovingly into his skin. 

~*~

70 years later, they sat in the same position. Bucky's hair was longer, Steve was bigger. They were familiar with each other now. The metal arm was cold against Steve's skin, but he didn't really mind. 

"Remember the first time we did anything together?" Bucky asked. He was the small one now, just not as drastically as before. 

"Right after you found out I worked as a prostitute to feed you every day." Steve smiled even though he knew he couldn't see. 

"Yeah." He laughed a little. 

"A lot has changed since then." He stated, "We don't have to live in that nasty neighborhood anymore to love each other. We've both died a couple times."

They both giggled, "A lot is the same though."

"Like what?" Steve asked. 

"Like you're still the bottom." He teased, "And you still come home every day covered in cuts and bruises. You still have the same hands." 

He kissed his neck and laced their fingers together. 

"We have a baby to take care of now." He countered. 

"You do. I was already taking care of you. You're my baby, Steve." He nuzzled his nose in the crook of his neck, "My baby with such perfect little hands. You can do anything with them now. You can still paint and draw and turn straw into gold."

Steve rolled over to face him. He kissed him softly and smiled. Bucky still gripped his hand tightly. He twisted the ring that Steve wore now. Bucky didn't get a ring. It would've had to have gone on his metal hand, so instead he asked Steve to repaint the star. Now it was blue. He still did wear a band on a chain if be wasn't in uniform. 

"I'm happy you're not dead." Steve held his face. 

"I'm happy we're together." Bucky kissed him again, "I keep thinking we'll wake up Evelyne."

"She sleeps like a rock. We're fine." But just as he said that a sharp cry was heard. Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky slipped on a pair of boxers and went to go get the baby. He came back holding the tiny bundle in his arms. She had stopped crying and reached for Steve. 

"I have decided I'm not that good at being a parent." He said. 

"Yes you are. She loves you." Steve reassured him as he sat next to him. Bucky handed Evelyne to Steve, who gladly took her and bounced her in his arms. Bucky nuzzled his face in his shoulder and kissed the smooth skin. Big blue eyes peaked out at the couple. 

"Youre so fucking perfect." Bucky said. 

"Don't swear in front of the baby." He swatted lightly at his thigh. 

"She can't understand me. She can't even talk yet." He pointed out. 

"Doesn't matter. Don't swear in front of the baby." He kissed the top of his head. 

"I love you, Stevie." He muttered. 

"I love you too, Buck." He craddled their daughter in his arms until she fell asleep again. He carried her back into the nursery and went back to snuggle with his husband again. He curled up under his chin and they too fell asleep together.


End file.
